A Small Loss
by Starship Artisan
Summary: Human!AU. After a terrible accident, Matthew Williams is killed and his soul cannot help but remain in the real world. He soon meets another ghost who can relate, and just maybe, he can learn that he is not actually forgotten by society, and with a little help his soul may be able to rest in peace after all. PruCan frienship.
1. One Moment

**A/N:** Just a little idea that I have been tossing through my head that I started in the summer. Also, I decided to change up my style a little bit with this fic. I decided to try and write in the second person, because I felt it fit well enough in this story. As I have planned it, this story should be around 6 chapters long and will (hopefully) be updated at a reasonable rate; I already have a few chapters done, so hopefully there isn't too long of a wait.

**Summary:** Human!AU. After a terrible accident, Matthew Williams is killed and his soul cannot help but remain in the real world. He soon meets another ghost who can relate, and just maybe, he can learn that he is not actually forgotten by society, and with a little help his soul may be able to rest in peace after all.

**Disclaimer: **The only thing that I own is the plot.

* * *

_One Moment  
_

* * *

The room was quiet. Almost an eerie silence, all that could be heard is the clanging of cutlery against the plates of the two occupants. Whether they were stunned into this silence, had nothing to say, or felt that they didn't need to say anything, well, you could not tell.

You doubt that if you were there in a physical form that it would change things. They seemed to be perfectly fine without you, even if Alfred isn't being his normally loud self, and even if Arthur isn't arguing with Alfred about everything. Were they possibly just tired? He knows that they're human and have other sides, but at the same time it seemed strange. Maybe they were simply concentrated on their food more than the events of the previous day and their loss—if they even acknowledged it as such.

They seemed to ignore you before anyway, so what difference does it make now? Yes, you were quiet and kept to yourself, but that isn't very well an excuse to simply forget about him. Doesn't this just make their job easier? Now, you can watch as they seem more relaxed and will probably _laugh_ at how much of a burden you were.

The two continue their bout of silence, that is, until Alfred slams his hands down on the table, making Arthur jump and look at him in bewilderment. If you look closely enough into his eyes, you can tell that he is trying not to cry.

You cannot bear to watch, because you know that it is a false sense of emotion, because he knows that you're watching. He wants to try playing the "hero" as he always calls himself. He wants to make Arthur believe his act, and by looking at the elders face, you can tell that it's working.

"No…" You whisper quietly, but of course they cannot hear you. How do you expect them to hear a specter, Matthew?

"Why…?" Is all that Alfred could say, and you think for a moment that maybe he does remember you, but you secretly know that it isn't true. He must be referring to the bandages wrapped around Arthur's head, and must be asking why his brother had to suffer while he got off easy. Shouldn't Matthew take all the pain instead, as Alfred got out with a couple of scrapes and bruises? You clench your fists, but find that you cannot feel the pain of your nails digging into your palm, and you're reminded of your disembodied state.

Arthur doesn't respond to the question, for he must not have an answer for whatever the question may be. He gets up from his chair, and you watch him walk slowly towards his bedroom. Alfred sits at the table a while longer with his head in his hands, and you think that you can see a small amount of water pooling on the table. Alfred must feel bad for what happened to Arthur, and must blame himself since technically _he_ was distracting the driver. You decide that you don't need to watch this, since it isn't your problem any longer.

You go outside—conveniently floating outside the walls of your (former) high rise apartment. You watch the people walking outside, and you also notice the other specters wandering around. You wonder, if you can you communicate with them, or if they could communicate with you? Would they know how you feel? Are they remembered by their loved ones?

You go down into the streets, and watch everything pass by—it is serene, you think. You continue down the street, observing the bodies and spirits that pass you by. They all ignore you, and you still feel alone. Their heads hang low, and you can hear the distinct whispers but cannot distinguish between living or dead. Not even _ghosts_ acknowledge your presence, although to be fair, they aren't acknowledging _anything_ for that matter.

Regardless, you still feel inadequate and wonder what will happen next. Fate must be kind to you, though, when you notice someone is walking beside you at the same pace. You blink a few times, because they seem to be talking to you.

"Hey! Are you listening to me? I'm talking to you, asshole!" The other specter shouts. You stop and turn to him with wide eyes, and are genuinely confused towards the very… vulgar sounding ghost.

"Don't look at me like that! I asked you why you were walking at a snail's pace! You obviously aren't as awesome as me…" The ghost kept rambling on, and you take this opportunity to examine the other's attire. He is dressed similar to you, while you're wearing your favorite red and white hoodie, he has a simple red zip up sweater. You also notice that he is wearing jeans, but he does not have glasses or anything. When your eyes trail up to his face, you jump a bit at his deep red eyes and unusually white hair.

"Can you quit staring at me like that? I know I'm pretty damn sexy and all, but there's no need to look at every detail." You're shocked to hear his bluntness towards you, and you open your mouth to speak but he beats you to it. "You don't have to agree with me, I already know that it's true."

"Well… Actually I wasn't going to... Never mind…" You mutter quietly, but inside you're laughing at his boastfulness. Oh, he reminds you so much of Alfred. Your internal laughter dies down and your face turns grim, you wished that you could stop thinking about your family.

"Something wrong?" The albino man asks, seemingly concerned for someone who he only just met.

"No, I'm fine…"

"Well that's good!" His grin returned. "So, how long have you been dead for?"

Being slightly appalled by the upfront question, you're silent for a while before responding, "Only a few hours…"

"Whoa! So you're new to this? No wonder you seem so depressed! What happened to you?" His voice is very loud, and you notice that he isn't afraid to get into your space. He slings and arm around your shoulder while laughing, like an old friend would do after a night of drinking. You look around in shock, seeing none of the other specters even raising their heads in acknowledgement to the loud albino, and you wonder for a moment if you would want to express your thoughts to this complete and total stranger, but figure that it is worth a shot since he actually seems to be interested in what you have to say.

"It was in a car accident… My brother Arthur was driving, but Alfred distracted him and…" You try to continue explaining things, but you feel that there is no need. The rest seems fairly self explanatory to you, and he should understand.

"Sounds rough. Did your brothers die, too?" He asks rather nonchalantly, as if dying is the most natural occurrence—even though technically it is. Even so, you are able to response smoothly.

"No, they're both alive and well. Arthur hit his head pretty hard, but he's fine otherwise…"

"You got the raw end of the deal, huh?"

"Ye-Yeah…" You look down at the ground, examining the cement that seems to have turned a darker shade of grey, but then you look up and notice the rain.

The man noticed your surprise at the rain, and chuckled to himself. "Takes some getting used to, I know." This startles you, not because you can't feel the rain, but because this man seems to have been dead for a long while. You wonder how long it will take for your soul to pass on—if it ever will. You open your mouth to say something, but quickly shut it in quiet understanding.

"Yeah, I know what you're thinking. I must have been dead for a long time blah blah blah. Well, let me tell you, it's only been six months," he says this as if it is nothing, but to you it seems like an eternity to be drifting in spirit alone. You panic, hoping that it doesn't take you that long. Suddenly, however, you realize that the wait could be longer. Some of the drifting spirits seem rather sullen and, well, dead... like they've been there for a lot longer than this man. It also occurs to you that you don't know the man's name, but—

"Anyway, you're still here for a reason. You want to inflict a curse on the world or something?" He joked, and you shake your head.

"No… I don't know why I'm still here." Internally, you blame Alfred. It sounds selfish, you know this, but you cannot help but be in envy of your twin. He gets all the attention, and it was his fault in the first place, and—

"Hey, you're spacing out again. You're not being a dumbass and blaming your brother, are you?" He laughs again, but you only frown, and his laughter fades. "Seriously? Don't be stupid. That must be why you're here…"

"Shut up!" You exclaim loudly, making the other man jump, however, the other looming spirits do not stir. You expect him to get angry, because he seems like someone who you would not want to tell off. Instead, he surprises you with another grin.

"I'm right, I know. You cannot hide your secrets from me!" You try to be angry, but you feel that you cannot. He is right, and you know it. Instead, you chose to change the subject.

"Why are you still here, then?" You ask bitterly, and he does not answer. The grin that was there a mere few seconds ago is wiped away, and replaced instead with pursed lips. He stares off ahead, definitely in thought, but soon the corner of his mouth turns up and answers.

"I honestly don't know. Maybe God is just trying to exact his revenge for all those times that I swore in church!" He chuckles, but you burst out into laughter at this, and you don't even know why.

Suddenly, he stops walking. You think that maybe your laughter has angered him, but instead, he looks at you carefully, and you see those red eyes calculating what he wants to say next.

"Listen, kid. I like you, and you're going to meet me tomorrow at the park over there." He points to the right, and you are surprised that the two of you had gone to the other end of the city. "And you have to be there by noon tomorrow. Got it?"

All you can do is nod your head at the frankness, and he adds, "Don't you dare be late." He turns around sharply, and starts to saunter off before you can say anything. Suddenly, you remember what you were meaning to ask earlier.

"Hey!" You call to him, and he turns around and looks at you curiously. "What is your name?"

Your question seems to catch him off guard, for he looks surprised for a moment, but then he smirks. "You can call me Gilbert Beilschmidt, the one and only!" At this point, you seem to be almost not phased by his narcissism.

"I'm Matthew Williams," you pause, "bye Gilbert, and Thank you!" He waves you off, and continues walking in the other direction. You turn around and head back as well, and you can't help but smile at the thought that, as cheesy as it sounds, you have a new friend.

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**A/N**: Thoughts? Please let me know!


	2. Two Lives Lost

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Hetalia, then there would be no need for a disclaimer.

* * *

_Two Lives Lost_

* * *

Your mind races as you recall the events of a few hours ago. You still cannot believe it, and it really only felt like minutes. You're in a dreamlike state that isn't quite reality, most likely because of the rush of adrenaline that you received at the thought of not being alone. Although, being a ghost makes you have a twisted sense of reality after you think about it.

Now, you must go home, but you aren't really sure your home is now. You decide to go back to your apartment, because now your brothers must be back to their normal behaviors since they still don't care about you. Your mind reels at this, and comes up with the worst and most bitter thoughts that they can process. You tell it to shut up, but they will not, because you know that it is all true.

Finally, you arrive "home" and almost tried to open the door, and then you scold yourself. You decide to float up the stairs anyway, and you notice that there are a few ghosts roaming the building, but they don't even bat an eyelash at you. Of course, you're forgotten even now by your own kind. You sigh, and they glance at you shortly, so you know that they're intentionally ignoring you. You stop for a moment, realizing that your thoughts have become rather redundant, and you curse yourself for acting that way; you have more class and optimism than that.

Once you finally reach the sixth floor, you enter through the doorway and look around the seemingly vacant apartment. It was silent once again, and you're genuinely shocked. Alfred isn't on the couch watching horror movies—even though your constant talk about him getting nightmares fell on deaf ears like usual—and you do not see Arthur lounging about with a book and some tea, or his practicing his embroidering. You are actually worried, since that has been the norm for years on end. Soon, you shake these thoughts, because why should you worry about them if they don't even care about you? No, that does not make any sense in your rational mind.

You decide not to worry, but you're simply curious at what your brothers are doing. You can hear something now as you make your way through the same two bedroom apartment, and you can't quite tell what it is. When you enter the kitchen, you see that all three seats are vacant, so you continue your search. The noise is growing louder, and you can tell by the pitch that it is Alfred. You go to your shared room with him, and you can hear the noise more clearly now. You pause in shock, because that sounds…

"No," you whisper in reassurance to yourself. Alfred would never do that, he is too proud and arrogant to show an emotion like _that._ Slowly, as if you were afraid that he would notice, you slip into the room. You notice the figure on the bed with his head buried in the pillow, and you notice that it seems fairly wet. Your suspicions are confirmed, and you know that he is crying. You turn away, because you cannot bear to look, but you can still hear it. You do not want to pity your brother, because this was his entire fault and he deserved it.

But, no matter how much you tell that to yourself, you know that it is not true. The nagging thought at the back of your heard keeps telling you to stop being over dramatic and irrational, and that thought is becoming harder to push out.

You exit the room, because you cannot stand to listen to his desperate sobs and he how continues to say your name as if he actually cared. He used your nickname, chanting it as if it would magically make you return to your former physical state. Even outside the room, you can hear it. You hear the desperate words calling to you, the desperate call for "Mattie, oh Mattie!" and other chants of "I'm sorry! Come back!"

Instead, you try not to listen. You enter the Arthur's room, expecting to see him sound asleep with some earplugs to tune out the younger brother. You're wrong, because Arthur is kneeling in front of his bed with both hands clasped together. For a moment, you wonder what he's doing, but then you hear his silent whispers.

He is praying, praying that your soul will pass on and you will enter the kingdom of heaven. You're shocked, because Arthur didn't pay you any mind most of the time, and when he did, he was hardly affectionate. You notice that his eyes are red rimmed, and you don't know what to think anymore. Surely, he was only upset because he broke his promise to their parents to protect you. Yes, that must be it. He must be apologizing, or maybe he is only praying because he feels obligated to do so.

It makes you sick to think about that, but as you keep telling yourself, you know that it is true.

Yet, you don't leave. You stay in the room, and even sit on a chair in the corner of the room even though there is no need. You watch him, waiting for him to give up and go to sleep. You do this for the whole night, and as much as you try, you can still hear Alfred crying.

Needless to say, both of your brothers were awake all night.

* * *

It is 12 o'clock sharp, and you're standing—floating—in the middle of the park that Gilbert had motioned to yesterday. You see many people walking around, both the living and the dead; there seem to be more alive and well. You gaze around, looking for the unmistakable features of your new friend. He had told you to be there right at noon, and not to be late.

Maybe he had forgotten? Maybe it was a joke? Maybe he really doesn't care? All these thoughts invade your mind like a storm, and you can't help but allow them to dampen the mood. You decide to wait, seeing as you have nothing better to do and figure that he is simply late. Maybe he had a rough mor—What on earth are you thinking. He's a ghost; ghosts don't have problems such as those.

Whatever the reason, you decide to stick around anyway. At least now you don't have to watch the sunken faces of your brothers, and you can examine strangers around you without seeming creepy in the slightest. You see laughing and playing children, young couples holding hands, the elderly feeding pigeons and such. You can't help but forget your troubles for a while and relax. Even though you can't feel it, the air seems nice on a day like this, and the scenery is as nice as ever. You check the time, half past twelve.

Another fifteen minutes pass, and then another, and then another…

Soon, it is nearing 2 o'clock. With a sigh, you decide that there is no point hanging around this place much longer. Gilbert won't show up now, especially since he was the one who said specifically not to be late.

However, just as you're about to leave, you're shocked when you hear a shout behind you, and you can't help but jump in surprise.

When you turn around, you're met with those same ruby red eyes.

"Hey, Matt!" He said cheerfully, not noticing the scowl on your face. Apparently, a little while later, he must have noticed since he frowned a bit. "What the hell is wrong with you? Did a bird shit on your head or something? Hah! If one did, that'd be _hilarious_!" He even started to cackle, and you couldn't help but sport a smile at his attitude. Your previous anger is lost and you seem to forget what you were mad about it in the first place.

"No…" Oh, now you remember. "Why were you late?"

"Huh? Oh! See, the coffee machine wasn't working…"

"Gilbert."

"What? Sounds like you don't believe me; why not?"

"You're dead…" He stares at you blankly for a moment, before looking down and examining his disembodied state.

"Damn, no more using that excuse…" You sigh and decide to drop the matter, deciding that it wasn't worth your while. Instead, your roll your eyes in mock irritation, but Gilbert doesn't seem to notice.

"Anyway," the albino continued. "Let's get a move on! I want to show you some places!" He made an attempt to clutch your arm, but noticing that he couldn't in their state, he shrugged and walked off—expecting you to follow, you assume. You do just that, and catch up with him without question. It's nice, you think, that he is keeping you company; you don't feel as alone as usual, which is a relief to you.

Before you know it, the two of you are standing in front of a simple house in the west end of town. You examine the yard, noticing that it is immaculately well kept and not even a single blade of grass out of order. You gape slightly at the perfection, and Gilbert seems to see that.

"Yeah, my brother is a neat freak. If there is even so much as a speck of dust _somewhere_ in the house he flips out." Gilbert explained with an almost fond look in his eyes. You watch in amazement, not quite comprehending how one minute this rowdy and loud character suddenly turned into a caring-sounding and calm person. Soon, you notice that you're staring.

"What are you staring at me like that for?"

Apparently, Gilbert noticed as well.

"N-Nothing!" You stammer. "You just... You sound like you are proud of your brother." You say this lamely, and if you could, you'd pale at the cheesy words. Gilbert, though, seemed to nod knowingly and ignored the odd words as if he didn't care.

"I am, you know. He's a better person than I ever was, and at least he's able to make something of himself," he talked fondly once again before he started to chuckle. "Hell knows I never could! Not many people wanted to hire a high school dropout, but luckily some did. Our parents died when I was 17, so we needed some form of income."

As Gilbert explained these things to you, you feel bad for the poor man. You thought that you had it tough, but he had it much worse. You wonder how he has so much self confidence and pride, but you notice in a sudden realization that it is really a façade. While he continues to explain, you swear that you can hear him starting to choke up every once in a while. He covers it up as much as possible, but you can still see it there.

Even so, he is still proud and seemingly happy… Why can't you be the same?

"Hey, Mattie?" You gasp on instinct, because only Alfred would call you Mattie. Hearing it spoken by someone else almost felt wrong, but since it was Gilbert, you felt that it was okay.

"Yeah?"

"Well… I think that crying will get us nowhere." You glance at him, and notice that there are a few tears rolling down his cheeks—apparently as a ghost you are able to cry—and he went on, "So let's make a deal."

"What kind of deal?" You ask, intrigued at the idea. Although, you ponder on how he knows that you cry about it as well.

"The dead are not supposed to remain in this world. To be honest, I just want to pass on and be _happy_. I know that you want the same, so we should make a pact. No matter what, we will help and make sure that we both pass on peacefully. What do you say?"

You have to think for a moment. That idea sounds nice in theory, but what waits for you after passing on? You don't want to be alone, and there is a nagging thought at the back of your mind that you shouldn't entirely trust this man that you met only recently. He seems to notice your doubt, and helps persuade your thinking.

"Oh come on, what is there to lose?" Besides everything?

"We'll be in a better place!" How do you know?

"There are probably some hot girls!" So? We're dead; it doesn't matter.

"We won't be alone." How—wait, what?

You stop your internal responses at that. All that you truly desire is to feel wanted, and to not be alone… But how could you be so sure?

"How do you know?" You reply quietly, and he—knowing which statement you are talking about—says simply:

"Because, I just do." He leaves it at that, and you decide that you may as well. Nodding your head in agreement, his solemn look turns into a smirk and he holds his hand out. Regardless of physical state, you shake hands.

"Deal." You smile, that promise of being with someone until the end has a nice feeling attached, and in that moment you swear that for once since your death, that you can feel an odd warmth in your heart.

* * *

After the pact you made with Gilbert, your mind is at ease as you trek back to the apartment.

However, once you arrive, things come crashing down to earth. As soon as you enter the small living space, the silence feels almost overwhelming. Just like the previous night and, judging by the circumstances, many to come, things are grim, and it is almost _suffocating_. Even in your state, you feel it strongly. It makes that pit in your stomach sink, and you think that perhaps your brothers left and will never come back.

The sound of shattering glass immediately relinquishes that thought.

"God _damnit_!"

You stop, and freeze. Looking through the hallway and into the kitchen, you can see a glimpse of Alfred's figure. His back is to you and his fists clenched tightly at his sides. You make your way to where he is, and you immediately notice the glass covering the floor in front of him. Intentional or not, you could not tell. Judging by the look on his face, he was either angry and, in turn, smashed the cup, or he dropped it and became angry—you could not tell which.

His next action catches you off guard. He sinks to the floor, the anger almost seeming to fade away as he simply becomes a broken pile of tears and sobbing. The glass is forgotten, but soon Arthur is by his side (probably heard the crash) and consoling him to the best of his ability. He helps Alfred get to his feet, and by this point Alfred has calmed down. Soon, though, he starts to mumble without stopping.

"Why did I make it happen…?" You hear distinctly, and you instantly know that it wasn't the broken cup that upset him. You try to remain indifferent, because Alfred never really cared about what you felt when you screwed up. About halfway through his attempt to help Alfred, Arthur freezes for a moment. You're curious, but seems to brush it off with an odd glance in your direction.

After ushering him to his room, Arthur walks back into the kitchen where you still stand idly. He walks until he is right in front of you, and lifts his head up enough so that he is staring at you.

"I can see you."

Your mind halts to a complete and utter stop. It takes you a while to register these words, because they seem utterly unreal to you. He barely acknowledged you when you were alive—not to mention the fact that you're _dead_—so why would he be able to see you now? He must be able to anticipate that reaction, because he explains himself.

"When we were younger, do you remember when I had that pet rabbit? Well, when it died, both you and Alfred thought that I was lying when I said that it was still here. I could see it, and I can see you." Arthur explains softly; he sounds like he does not want any sort of conflict.

Now that you think about it, that story does make sense. You can remember when Alfred—more than he—would tease Arthur about talking to his friend the "flying mint bunny" and even you would encourage their banter. That's all the proof you need, and you nod at his explanation.

Arthur nods in return and adds, "I didn't want to say anything about it in front of Alfred. He's taking it very hard, and he blames himself you know."

"Yes, I know." You manage quietly and with hostility, which Arthur picks up on. He backs away for a second, and looks at you in what looks to be… Pity?

"I'm so sorry Matthew…"

"I know. It's not your fault, Arthur." Even if it is a reassurance, you say it in a cold tone. He watches you carefully again, and with that same look of pity that you have grown to hate. Everyone seemed to use it, well, except for Gilbert. You think that maybe you should tell Arthur about what you've been doing ever since, but decide against it. You don't want to speak with him, and you certainly don't want Alfred hearing about it.

"A-Arthur?"

Speak of the devil.

He spins around sharply, trying to hide his nervousness. "Yes, what is it Alfred?"

"Who… Who are you talking to?"

"What? Oh… Just one of my… My "imaginary friends" as you like to call them." He covers smoothly, and Alfred seems to believe him. He turned around and walked back into his room.

Seeing that the coast was clear, Arthur continued, "I won't tell him. I can't see you all the time, anyway. Only in some cases, and this is the first time so far. Have you been around us already?"

You nod.

"I thought so. Listen, Matthew, I hope you can move on. Being stuck here can't be too glamorous, but if you want to talk, I will listen," he assures you, and you're surprised. You stare at him, but then you utter a simply 'okay' and leave it at that. After some more chatter, he says that he wants to sleep. You are thankful, for if you had to talk to Arthur some more, you may start to cry at what you're missing out on.

* * *

A/N: Reviews are much appreciated.


	3. Three Minds Shattered

A/N: Oops I am horrible at updating

**Disclaimer:** The only thing that I own is the plot.

* * *

_Three Minds Shattered_

"So, tell me more about your brothers," Gilbert asks you the next day. You're both at the same park as the day before, and you're surprised at the sudden request.

"Why would you want to hear it? It's not like you can talk to them…" The words slip out by accident, and you internally wince at the harshness. He seems taken aback by the blow, but he looks at you in understanding.

"That doesn't matter. I told you about my life, so why don't you tell me about yours?"

"Mine is nothing special… I mean, I miss it, but it's nothing out of the ordinary."

"If it's nothing out of the ordinary, then what is there to miss?"

"Well… I guess I miss my brothers, even if they do ignore me most of the time… Alfred always got all attention, and he and Arthur would fight all the time." You don't know why you're explaining this, but you feel that you can't stop. Soon, everything floods out and you explaining everything—from minor things that you would do every day, and major events that has happened to either you or your brothers.

"—and Arthur once had a rabbit, and when it died he said that he could see the ghost and told us that it was the 'Flying Mint Bunny' but we never believed him." You chuckle at the memory, and you're reminded of your conversation with Arthur yesterday. "Oh, and apparently Arthur can see me sometimes…" This piqued Gilbert's interest, and it was fairly obvious. His head snapped to you, his red eyes widening as he muttered something intangible before a grin overtook his face.

"Say, if he can see us… Why don't you introduce us? Plus, I want to see if they are really as lame as you say that they are!"

You mutter that "lame" probably isn't the best word to use, but then his request starts to set in and you panic. "N-No!" you sputter, "They… They probably aren't home." Your excuse is pathetic, you know, and Gilbert takes no time in challenging it.

"Then how about we go and see?" He suggests, and you know that you won't win this.

"Fine…" That's all that he needed to hear, and he begins to run off. Soon, however, he realizes that he doesn't know where he's going, and you smile to yourself, allowing yourself one brief moment of happiness.

* * *

You're about the grab the doorknob, but think nothing of it as the two of you pass through the door. Gilbert looks around curiously in the doorway, mumbling incoherent words the whole time. He stops, and you come up to stand beside him, only to see your two brothers sitting on the old couch, watching television and looking grim. If Arthur was alerted to your presence now, he certainly didn't seem like it.

"They look lively," the albino muttered under his breath, and you look down in a wordless expression of guilt. Soon, however, Gilbert began to brighten. "They can see us?"

"No, only Arthur can…"

You notice that if Arthur heard you, he made no move to acknowledge it. Whether he didn't hear it, or if he's ignoring you, you cannot tell. A few moments later, Alfred rises from the couch and stretches his limbs. You wait for some type of complaint about sore joints, or having to get up, but you hear nothing as he wordlessly stalks to his room.

Arthur didn't make any motion to move or even look in their direction, so you're fairly convinced that he cannot see you right now.

While you're lost in your own thoughts, you fail to notice Gilbert's obscene gestures—you guess to get Arthur's attention—and you look mildly horrified at him, sincerely hoping that Arthur wasn't simply ignoring them in favor of playing innocent, but rather cannot see them at this time. Either way, you give him a bit of a glare which surprisingly shuts him up.

Although, the glare isn't the reason, as you soon learn.

"Are you sure he can't see us?" Gilbert whispers and you simply shrug your shoulders.

"I don't know."

"Which one is he, anyway?"

"That one." He points to his brother in question.

"Oh… Those are quite the eyebrows…" He points out quite rudely, but if Arthur actually heard he made no indication.

"I know, everyone says that."

"Anyway," Gilbert interrupts, "why are you so spiteful towards them anyhow? They don't look to be all that bad."

You scoff, "Yeah, but on a regular day they fight quite a bit. It's usually just small things that Alfred does to bother Arthur, but he gets pretty riled up."

"Sounds just like little sibling fights. I bother my brother all the time just to see what he'll do, you know."

Your mind immediately objects to that, but there is a part of you that realizes that he is right. Both parts conflict and a small thought sets in that you've been wrong this whole time. You try to verbally object, but he seems to anticipate it as if he was psychic.

"Before you give me a blatant no, use some logic before I get the urge to punch you," he adds on quite frankly—even though it's physically impossible to be punched—you cannot seem to muster up a response; deciding instead to bow your head, as if you've been scolded like a child. "Tell me more about them." You hear harshly.

"They both seem to ignore me most of the time—"

"Stick to facts," he says coldly. You're in shock at his tone, because he's acting a lot more serious than he usual does. Then again, you haven't known him for very long.

You spend a large portion of the day explaining things to Gilbert and telling stories, and although you're doubt still nags on your mind, the logical side is starting to take power. Even then, you cannot help but be bitter all the same.

* * *

Soon, it is nightfall, and you're still recounting your stories to Gilbert as he listens quietly and intently. You don't seem to realize this until the television and lights are turned off, and the two brothers retreat to their rooms for the night. You stop talking when you notice, and Gilbert seems to accept it as well.

"I'm going to be honest with you Mattie; they really don't sound as bad as you make them out to be."

"I… I know."

* * *

You sigh, "It's very late; we should go somewhere else."

"Why is that? I know this is creepy, but watching them is kind of… fun, I guess."

You panic a bit in recalling the events of recent nights.

"No, we really should go. Arthur might see us."

"Then we can go see the other one." He moves to head towards the door, but you quickly move in front of him.

"No, I don't want you to watch them."

"Why do you care? You're dead," he deadpans, wanting a valid response. You don't want to express your selfish act of trying to cover up the truth, so instead you sigh and move out of his way. He strides past you with a certain sense of accomplishment, but it's as if the world stops turning when he enters Alfred's room.

The man in question is shaking on his bed, although his sobs are silent, but both you and the other ghost know that they are still real. Gilbert looks remorseful for a moment, as if he understands why you did not want to stay here. He looks at you, but it isn't quite sympathy that shines in his eye, but more… more like question. It dawns on you then, that he is still trying to make you realize that they do care. You look away, and are tempted to tell him to stop with that notion.

Before you have that option; however, Gilbert walks out of the room silently, and you begin to follow him curiously.

"Where are you going?" You ask, but Gilbert does not say anything in response. He walks to Arthur's room, but this time you are afraid to follow him. You're not even entirely sure why, but the other specter is not someone who you would want to make angry. Gathering your wits, you know that you must face him sooner or later, and you walk into Arthur's room.

He is praying again, but if he can see you he makes no outward sign.

"Hey, can you hear us?" Gilbert asked in irritation, but again, Arthur didn't seem to hear him. Seeing that he got no reaction, he turns to you, and continues to frown. "Does he always pray?"

You're slightly puzzled by this question, and you cannot help but voice your curiosity. "Yes, why do you ask?"

"Do you really think he would pray to you if he didn't care, Matthew?" His voice is low and quiet now, and the use of your name alarms you. What's worse is that Gilbert is trying to tell you things about your _own_ brother as if you didn't know him at all.

That simply isn't good.

"You don't know anything," you tell him calmly, but he looks at you in an unimpressed fashion, all the while his arms are crossed and his face looking tired. It's obvious that he's getting tired of your act.

But it's odd, you think, because… you just don't seem to care.

And it's highly unlikely that you ever will.


End file.
